


Though Steve Wants It To Be, Sex Isn't the Answer

by Stony_eyed



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Natasha is dead, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Rough Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Spanking, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, UDS, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, like dead dead, secure your wigs, this entire thing is just about every stony stereotype
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 06:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21193145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stony_eyed/pseuds/Stony_eyed
Summary: The death of Steve's best friend Natasha is really hitting him hard. Not knowing how to handle the grief, he turns to sex to cope.--There is a hopeful ending — so don't fear this isn't just angst.





	Though Steve Wants It To Be, Sex Isn't the Answer

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon divergent. Pepper and Tony never got back together, they realized that it was better for their sanity to be the best friends they were before. Bucky was not dusted away, Tony didn’t die, and Steve and Tony became a couple during the 5 year Blip.

In the moment of their victory against Thanos and his army, there’s a mixture of relief and utter joy that runs through them. All except Steve. Sure, he feels the elation that it’s finally over — he even yanks his helmet off to get a better view of their triumph — but when he instinctively turns to hug Natasha in celebration, his heart is met with a cold wall. 

She sacrificed herself so that they could have this moment. Yes, in the end it was Carol Danvers who snapped her fingers for Thanos and his army to be dusted away, her linked powers to the Tesseract allowing her to do so without dying. But they wouldn't have gotten here if it wasn't for Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, Steve's best friend.

After things with Tony fell apart, Steve had become incredibly close to Natasha. Both were able to relate to feeling like an outsider or like they didn't quite belong; Steve for not being from this time period, and Natasha for having more difficulty accepting any kind of familial bond. 

Everyone else on the team was patient with them when faced with their distant demeanor — to an extent. Nat, however, always understood where Steve was coming from, knew when to let subjects drop without hesitation. Steve did the same for her. 

She is — was — the ever-present friend who listened to his rants and provided a shoulder to cry on. Steve always looked forward to the movie nights they would have in whatever safe house they managed to find. Sam, without fail, would find them the next morning asleep, Natasha’s head on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve’s head on top of Nat’s. There was a lot of that actually. 

With those makeshift sleepovers came the almost too-frequent occurrence of one consoling the other after they woke from their long gone demons. Steve never found it easy to allow Natasha to see him in that state, and he knew the vulnerability of it all couldn’t have been any easier for her either.

It happened to Natasha first. Steve can still remember how she thrashed in his arms, her voice was hoarse as she screamed and cried at a no longer existent enemy. Her eyes were squeezed tight, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she uselessly pounded her fists against his chest. It had only taken a moment for Steve to come to his senses enough to hold her closer and rub her back in comfort. He whispered into her hairline reminders that she was safe and no one could hurt her anymore until she finally relaxed back into him.

She later confessed she had been mortified, because she never allowed herself to show her weaknesses. He then told her that he struggled with nightmares too, and that he wouldn’t tell anyone. It pacified her enough in the moment, but she didn’t feel more resolved until Steve went through the same thing. After that, they truly felt most comfortable with each other.

Even after things mended over with Tony, Steve’s friendship with Natasha held strong. They shared inside jokes, which turned team movie nights into Steve and Nat laughing at something obscure, like the word pancakes. The team would wear confused looks in response, while Tony held a small smile. 

Natasha had actually become the go-between for Steve and Tony when they first made amends during the Blip. Steve once found himself stuck in a private space alone with Tony, tension almost too much to bear. The attempts to break the silence were at first awkward dances to figure out what was still considered a safe topic. But after awhile, they both slowly remembered they were actual friends before everything had gone to shit and things finally weren’t so bad. 

Every time after that, Steve would eagerly relay the new development in his relationship with Tony to Natasha for him to be met with a “told ya so” look. It took Steve longer than it should have to realize that perhaps Natasha was the one to thank for those suspiciously prolonged moments of privacy that the two men were gifted. 

A year after that first encounter, Steve became good friends with Tony again, which then turned into something romantic. It hadn’t gone as far to turn sexual, though they were excited for that part to come (pun very much intended). With all they’d been through, they knew that their emotional connection needed work before a physical connection was brought into the relationship.

Steve’s renewed relationship with Tony was vital for the team because after that, the team that once was, slowly reformed. Without Natasha, that wouldn’t have been possible. She was the glue to their messy Avengers puzzle, she turned their crumpled dynamic into a solid picture one can admire.

That’s why the news of her sacrifice hit everyone so hard. For Steve, he had lost his best friend, it was truly like he lost his other half. 

With the Thanos issue at hand, it had been fairly easy to squash the rising depression and dread, but now that it’s over, Steve doesn’t have anything to keep himself from falling down that dark hole. 

So there, on the battlefield, he just falls to his knees, the helmet clutched in his hands tumbling to the ground beside him. Tears stream down his face as the full force of his anguish hits him. The tears turn into sobs. His hands cover his face and his body hunches over as he pictures Nat’s beautiful, carefree smile. The one that she reserved just for him. 

She’s gone. Truly and irreversibly gone. And he breaks. 

He hears a deep scream, but his head is ringing and he can’t determine whether it’s his own or Bucky’s. Fuck, Steve may have lost his best friend, but Buck lost his wife.

Steve assumes it’s a little bit of both of them — that’s the only way Tony could have found him among the dust and chaos of the battlefield. Steve’s face is still covered, but he can feel Tony swiftly crouch in front of him, hands coming to brace both sides of his shaking shoulders. Steve hears a muffled kind of noise as a shadow crosses in front of his face. It’s Tony trying to peer at him, concern all across his features. It takes a few squeezes of Tony’s hands before it occurs to Steve that Tony’s lips are moving, and that the muffled noise he’s hearing is Tony trying to talk to him.

“Steve, Steve are you okay? Talk to me babe, what’s going on?” There’s panic and fear in his voice. Tony’s most likely assuming that Steve’s been injured with him hunching over like this, and who can blame him? Tony’s inquiries slowly stop. He brings his hands from Steve’s shoulders to gently grasp Steve’s wrists, slowly pulling them down to reveal Steve’s tear streaked and swollen face. Tony’s face isn’t frozen with panic but sympathetic and questioning.

"She's — Nat's — she's gone. She's gone Tony." It’s all Steve manages to choke out before another wave of sobs overcome him. Tony just pulls him into an embrace, rubbing his back soothingly, his chin resting on top of Steve's head. And Steve falls into it.

"Oh sweetheart. I know, I know." There isn't anything else Tony can say. What do you say to someone who just lost one of the most important people in their life?

They stay like that for awhile, long after the dust has settled and people have left. Pepper took Peter home to May, Thor left with the Guardians, Clint offered up his home to Bruce, Sam dragged Bucky back through a portal to Wakanda. Everyone went to find a place to celebrate and re-coop, knowing that the clean-up can be handled in the near-future. But Steve and Tony stay there: Steve giving up every tear he had held back before and more, from the fresh wound of the loss sparking it. 

Tony just comforts him through it. They stay like that until dusk becomes dark. When Steve's sobs start to die down into sporadic gasps and hiccups, Tony slowly pulls back, gently patting his shoulder.

"How about we get you cleaned up?" is all Tony asks, as if he knows this isn’t the time to talk, and it’s better to keep things short. Steve’s never allowed Tony to see him like this, so fragile and broken, there’s never really been a time that he could. 

He’s Captain America for fuck’s sake. He should be the embodiment of strength, but the only thing he gives Tony is a tiny nod as he hiccups out, "Wh- where are we supposed to do that? The- the base is destroyed."

"We still got the tower honey." Tony responds, and Steve can only nod, no further persistence of needing to know the plan. Steve knows his actions, or lack thereof, will show the severity of it all, but he doesn’t care. Tony, still in his suit, braces Steve in his arms bridal style, and blasts them up into the sky. The whole ride over is silent, except for Tony confirming with FRIDAY that the tower can accommodate them and they'll have the space to themselves. Steve had somehow forgotten about the tower in the chaos of his muddled mind. 

He hasn’t been at the Stark Tower since the endeavor to save the world started six months ago, and he’s never stayed for long periods of time with Tony. The thought is fleeting as they shoot through the sky.

\----

Tony touches down and gently places Steve on his feet. The flight granted Steve time to bring himself back a little. Well, at least enough to stand on his own. He feels better now that he's let out the sorrow that was eating him alive, but he also just feels like a shell of a person.

Steve watches as Tony's suit recedes back to wherever it is the nano-tech armor resides. A small flicker of something stirs in Steve's heart, and he thinks maybe he's not completely lost to the world. Tony has his usual black tank top and nicely-fitting undersuit pants underneath; an image that would usually make Steve’s mouth water, now lacks its usual beckoning pull.

Tony makes his way back over to Steve, his hand outreached and face gentle. "Come on big guy, there's a shower and bed with your name on it just inside." His pet name makes Steve's mouth quirk in a slight, quick smile. Tony seems to notice like he does with everything, and a look of accomplishment and hope crosses his face.

Even though Steve has been there more times than he can count on his two hands — having used it whenever he went into the city for his therapy group after he and Tony became a thing — with the state Steve’s in, Tony has to lead him to the penthouse private bathroom. Steve is still barely responsive under the weight of depression and exhaustion. 

They walk a few steps into the still bedroom, Steve’s empty gaze sweeps the expanse of it. His attention snaps back over to Tony when he feels him release his hand and turn to leave. Automatically panic wells up in Steve at the prospect of being alone, and without registering it, he reaches out to grasp Tony's arm.

"Everything okay, babe?" Tony says over his shoulder, concern written across his features. Steve knows that Tony hates to leave him like this, but they haven't crossed into the physical aspect of their relationship yet. And Steve gets that. Tony wouldn't want to take advantage of this situation just to get some, but Steve can't help but say it.

"Stay."

Steve’s eyes are watering again and his pulse is racing so loud that he’s sure Tony can hear. He has an irrational fear that if Tony leaves, he'll never see him again either. He just wants to feel something, anything but this dread that’s threatening to drown him.

"Okay, yeah sure. Whatever you need Steve, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Tony rotates his body to face Steve again and comes back over, slowly bringing his hands up to Steve's still uniformed chest. He leans up to gently kiss Steve's lips, lingering just enough to comfort and express his love, before breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against Steve's. 

"Whatever you need." Tony repeats, pulling just a few inches away from Steve's face to look into his eyes and gently pull him into the bathroom. The tenderness and care calms Steve back down again, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, nodding to show that he understands. Tony slowly helps Steve undress, his hands brush reassuringly across the newly exposed skin, making Steve shiver. Once Steve is completely bare, Tony audibly exhales, eyes slightly wide and glazed.

"Wow… Uh, yeah. You're naked. Which is the point of all this, and I knew you'd be gorgeous, but wow." Tony all but seems to ramble, pupils blown wide. Steve chuckles at his response. This is why Steve needs him here: Tony is always able to make him chuckle or laugh when he doesn't think it's possible.

"Would you... could you join me? I don't want to be alone." It’s the first full sentence Steve has been able to utter since leaving the battlefield, his voice raw from the hours of sobbing. The prospect of being with Steve in the shower really seems to get Tony going, his face full of desire.

"Only if you want me to, Cap. This is a big step, and I want to make sure you're sure." Steve can practically hear the inner battle going on in Tony's mind — he's a very loud thinker. The fact that he’s using the nickname “Cap” to try and distance himself isn't lost on Steve. Tony only uses the pet name on the field now that he’s aware of Steve’s need to be accepted as Steve Rogers and not just Captain America. He realizes Tony won't make the move, not when Steve is so emotionally vulnerable.

"I do. I want — no, I need you, Tony." 

Apparently, that’s all Tony needed to hear. He quickly rids himself of his clothes, but he keeps his eyes on Steve, probably making sure that he doesn’t change his mind.

Steve definitely keeps his eyes on Tony. The gentle, reassuring touches from before are awakening something in Steve — the emptiness of loss is filling up with something warmer and he doesn’t want it to go away. Steve wants Tony, wants him to rid that empty feeling from his soul, make him forget about the ache he can’t seem to shake. 

He watches Tony’s every move: The way he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants to pull them down. The way his arms and shoulders shift and flex as he pulls the soft tank top over his head, exposing his lean torso which is dusted with dark hair. Tony is certainly beautiful, scars and all. Steve’s mouth waters. 

Once Tony finishes undressing, Steve drags his eyes up to lock gazes with Tony and watches as Tony’s eyes drop down to where Steve’s biting his lip, and then a little further to his now half-hard and leaking dick. Tony licks his lips, still entranced with the ever hardening view, and then looks back up, eyes filled with lust.

Before Steve can even move, Tony is closing the distance between them. He brings his hands up, one landing on Steve’s chest and the other traveling further up to the back of Steve’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. Steve melts into it, his hands impulsively wrapping around Tony’s waist. Tony swipes his tongue across the lip that Steve was worrying just moments earlier, and Steve hesitantly pulls Tony even closer. He gasps as their naked bodies brush and Steve takes advantage of his surprise by diving his tongue in to explore Tony’s mouth. 

With every brush of tongue and lips, every press of their bodies, Steve feels a little more whole. He can’t get enough, his hands grip Tony tighter, enough to bruise, and he moans, moving them backwards into the shower. 

The shower in the penthouse isn’t like any other Steve had been in before. One of the many pros to being Tony Stark's boyfriend is having access to luxuries one can't forget. It’s about the size of a small bathroom, with multiple shower heads and an inlaid bench built into the walls. Perfect for shower sex. 

Tony breaks the kiss to Steve’s brief dismay, turning to type the settings he wants into the shower command panel. Steve just redirects his attention to Tony’s jaw, neck, and throat. He knows he’s coming off as desperate, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He feels like a dead man who’s just found his source of life. His ministrations make Tony fumble with pressing the right keys on the screen, delaying the start of a very promising shower. 

“Steve,” Tony manages to moan when Steve grazes a particularly sensitive spot with his teeth. “We have to actually make it _ into _ the shower to get clean.”

“Mmm, but you taste so good.” He huffs in such a deep, husky voice, grazing his teeth more firmly against that very spot again, eliciting an even louder moan from Tony. By this point, they’re both very hard and straining, but Tony finally gets the shower going, and turns to push Steve into the spray before following him in. Right away, Steve notes that some of the grime on their bodies begin to wash away, save for a few spots that will definitely require the use of soap.

“Clean first.” Tony mutters after Steve dives in for more kissing. Steve lets out a begrudging grumble, but pulls away with a small pout. He just wants to feel Tony in any way possible. Every moment of contact pushes his despair and dread further away, but Tony’s right: he’ll feel better when he’s clean.

“Don’t do that,” Tony begs. “You’re cute, but you’re also gross with alien guts and blood. I personally would be able to enjoy your dick in my mouth more if you were clean.” This makes Steve outright laugh, but it also turns him on even more, the idea of Tony kneeling before him so vivid. Only Tony could make him laugh and feel aroused at the same time.

Tony’s smiling now as he begins to rub the soap into Steve’s skin, starting at his neck and shoulders, using a washcloth to really massage it in. Steve closes his eyes at the sensation, the slightly rough feel as the cloth moves against his skin, rubbing away the aforementioned dirt and blood, Tony takes his time to get every spot. Steve’s head lolls forward to rest on Tony’s shoulder, he’s having a hard time deciding whether he still wants Tony or if he now wants sleep.

_ Tony. I definitely want Tony _, Steve thinks, as Tony pays extra close attention to his chest and ass. But before he can go to where Steve really wants him, Tony goes back up to clean his face and wipes away the worst of the mess as Steve lets out a whimper.

“Tony,” he pants. Tony’s ministrations against Steve’s ass and chest have only made standing still for Steve that much harder… literally.

“Now if I do that, _ I _won’t get clean,” Tony says, his answer indicating that he knows exactly what Steve is asking for. His voice cracks at the end, proving to Steve just how much this is affecting him too. Steve doesn’t have to be told, he automatically makes quick work of cleaning Tony off just as deliberately. Tony’s more vocal about how much he’s enjoying the kneading and passes of the wash cloth on his skin. 

When Steve finishes, he reaches down and around to firmly squeeze Tony’s ass with his unoccupied hand, while he strokes Tony’s dick with the hand still holding the wash cloth. Tony’s knees wobble, but Steve supports him as he bites and sucks on the junction between Tony’s neck and shoulder, knowing he’ll be sporting a mark there for awhile. 

Steve feels Tony grappling to do the same to his own aching and neglected cock, and Steve can’t help the deep, rumbling moan that escapes him. He feels Tony’s dick jerk in response within his firm grasp. Steve knew it was going to be good, but wow, this is better than anything he could have ever imagined.

“What do you want Steve? What do you need?” Tony’s questions brush against Steve’s ear seductively, making him shiver. All the things Steve has always wanted to try flash through his mind, but one image sticks.

“I want that gorgeously smart mouth wrapped around my hard dick. I want you to suck me off until I come for you.” He pants into Tony’s ear, and Tony groans in response.

“Such a dirty bastard aren’t you, babe?” Tony smarts back breathily, and he pushes Steve to sit on the bench, spreading his legs to kneel on between them. Steve’s back presses against the cool wall of the shower room, a stark contrast to the steaming water, making him hiss. 

His head falls back with a thunk as he feels Tony’s hand wrapping around him. Momentarily he closes his eyes, before opening them again to look down at Tony when there isn’t any progression. He finds those gorgeous brown eyes looking back, Tony’s mouth hovering open just above the tip of Steve’s now leaking cock, eyebrows quirked in silent question.

“Please,” Steve whimpers out, hips rocking slightly forward in attempts to just feel the heat of Tony’s enticing mouth. And then Steve is thanking all known gods and deities because Tony obliges. Leaning down, he presses his tongue flat against the underside of Steve’s base. Shaft still held in place, he slowly, oh-so-slowly, licks up, flicking the tip of Steve’s dick with the tip of his tongue to steal the precum that has gathered there. A deep moan rips out of Steve’s mouth.

“More,” is all Steve can manage when Tony pauses, the bastard. Long gone are those dark, overpowering thoughts; all Steve can think about is Tony.

Tony smirks up at him and again obliges, twirling his tongue around the head of Steve’s dick, then going to tease his slit, licking up the now never ending precum. Steve grants Tony a gasp as he watches Tony go back to licking up and down his shaft, and planting open mouthed kisses to his base. 

Finally, Tony takes him fully in the mouth, wrapping his lips around Steve’s throbbing dick and hand holding firm. Steve’s mouth slowly opens as he watches Tony slowly take all of him until Tony gags when it hits the back of his throat. Steve grunts and bucks his hips up into Tony’s warm and eager mouth, his eyes squeeze shut. He’s gripping the bench so tightly, it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. Tony holds himself there for a moment, swallowing around the thickness that is Steve Rogers, and Steve thinks he passes out for a second at the feeling. Tony then pulls back, gasping for breath as his hand goes to pump Steve’s cock.

“God, Tony, your mouth feels ‘mazing. S’ fucking good.” Steve’s eyes open blearily, his voice slurs with the praise that pours out, the stimulation so overwhelmingly good. Tony just hums, going back to take Steve into his mouth now that he’s somewhat caught his breath, his head bobbing in Steve’s lap. 

Tony is gripping Steve’s thigh with one hand, the pressure strong enough that it would leave marks if Steve didn’t heal at an accelerated rate. He can’t help but feel the small twinge of disappointment in knowing that he can’t be marked by Tony. Those thoughts don’t last long, though, they dash away when Tony goes to massage and gently squeeze Steve’s balls with the hand that no longer needs to hold his dick, what with Tony’s head still bobbing relentlessly. 

Soon Steve is bucking his hips up to meet Tony’s mouth. He’s so close, so very very close. But he wants Tony to come with him, so he reaches for Tony’s dripping cock. Squeezing and pumping, Tony moans around Steve’s dick, which makes Steve go faster.

“I’m so close baby, but I want you to come with me. I want you to come for me.” Steve murmurs into Tony’s ear, and Tony moans around Steve’s dick again, hips slowly bucking into Steve’s hand. All of these sensations tap deep into Steve, a seductively dark and possessive part of him rising up to take the controls. He reaches around and slaps Tony’s ass, loving how it moves and how the sound echoes off the tile walls. Tony’s cry is muffled by the thickness of Steve’s dick, and Steve can’t help but smirk at the power he has.

“You like that, baby? You like being spanked?” Steve eggs on, the dirty talk coming so easily. Tony can only whimper as he sucks harder, and that’s what pushes Steve over the edge.

“Fuck, I’m coming Tony.” Steve grunts out as he explodes into Tony’s mouth, hips jerking ever so slightly with the force of his orgasm. Tony swallows every last drop as he comes soon after into Steve’s hand, both moaning in pleasure. Their bodies slump when the orgasms pass. Steve resting his head on Tony’s back, and Tony resting his head on Steve’s thigh. They’re both panting from the exertion.

"That was — I mean — wow." Tony breathes out, and Steve has to agree, "Wow is right. Better than I expected. And what I expected was already pretty incredible to begin with." They both chuckle at that. 

“You were amazing,” Steve says as he runs his fingers through Tony’s hair, savoring the warm after glow. He never knew it could be this good. 

He peers down at the love of his life, putting as much tenderness into the gaze as possible. Tony looks back up at him, and Steve brings a hand down to caress the side of his face, thumbing his cheek. Tony’s smile is radiant in return and he moves to kiss the palm of Steve’s hand to then nuzzle his thigh, and Steve feels his heart expand. It’s almost as if every good thing about them is clicking into place, and he wonders why this didn’t happen sooner.

The salacious images of their first time together play through his mind and he hums in appreciation, but then it dawns on him, “I got a little rough there, was that too much? I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Tony pulls back with a look of confusion. “Are you kidding me!? That was some of the best sex I’ve ever had! But I appreciate you making sure.” Tony tilts his head in consideration, and raises up to straddle Steve’s lap, “How about, whenever words get hard, we use the ‘green-yellow-red’ and the tap-out system, so we’re on the same page? That way there isn’t any confusion and no one panics that they crossed a line after the fact,” Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders so his hands can play with the wet hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, almost as if to drive home that he’s okay.

Knowing that he didn’t hurt Tony in any way, Steve nods, lips quirking just slightly, “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” Tony smiles in kind, giving Steve a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much. You know that? Every day, I’m so grateful to have you in my life,” Steve murmurs against Tony’s mouth. He pulls back to look at Tony more fully before continuing, “I feel like I don’t say that enough, and I should. You, Anthony Edward Stark, inspire me to live life without abandon. You are worth the sun, the moon, and all of the stars, and I am so lucky you chose me.” The praise he gives him is genuine and pure.

Instead of answering right away, Tony’s hands clasp the sides of Steve’s face. His eyes are starry with emotion when he leans forward to press another gentle kiss to Steve’s lips. “And I love you Steven Grant Rogers. I’m truly the lucky one, so very very lucky to have you. I’m not going anywhere, not even Satan himself can convince me to leave you.” The words settle a small part inside Steve and he closes his eyes as Tony leans forward to rest their foreheads against each other.

They eventually get up after trading kisses a few more times to rinse off before making their way to the bed. They gently dry each other off, in part because of the immense love that they feel for each other, but they are also now both exhausted. They climb into the immaculate bed that they've now shared countless times when Tony had to make business trips for SI. The sheets are soft silk that soothes against their clean, hot skin, like a sigh.

Steve curls up in bed first with Tony joining soon after as he says, “Goodnight, FRIDAY,” and the lights slowly dim out. He curls around Steve, spooning him, arms wrapped around his middle, holding him close and kissing his shoulder. Tony must assume Steve is already asleep, exhausted from all that has happened. 

But Steve isn't asleep. Now that things have settled, he's left with that empty feeling again. No matter how much he wants Tony's presence to be enough, it can only help for so long. For a moment, the darkness was gone, extinguished by the light that Tony always seems to provide, but now it's like that light has been switched off, and the only thing Steve is left with is an all encompassing darkness. None of this is Tony's fault, he knows that. He knows Tony has tried his best to help. Which is why Steve waits until he feels Tony's breathing even out before he finally cries himself to sleep.

\---

Steve using sex as a coping mechanism goes on for awhile, maybe close to a month? The passage of time has been hard for Steve to follow. All he can focus on is the new pattern of his life that he desperately clings to: doing his best to pretend like he's fine, until it becomes too much and Tony helps him forget long enough to go back to pretending. 

Steve believes he's successful in fooling everyone, even Tony, who is never one to complain when Steve becomes insistent and desperate with his hands and mouth. Or at least that's what Steve tells himself, because facing the fact that everyone notices, encompasses more than he can handle. He holds tight to it not being their place to push when they catch him zoning out during their mission debriefs, even if it is becoming a concern.

_ You're fine. They don't know. Just one more day. They don't know. We won. They don't know. Be happy. They don't know _ . 

The mantra he runs through in his head when he wakes up every morning: as he drags himself from the warm cocoon of Tony’s embrace, as he takes a soldier's shower, as he dresses. The moments before Tony joins him, Steve is alone, and the falsehood of being okay doesn’t need to be performed . It's almost as if Steve has become a robot in disguise.

This morning isn't any different. He's not sure when he woke up, but he's laying in bed, facing the floor to ceiling windows to his right, sheer curtains covering them, letting the sunlight in to dance across his face. He feels the warm presence of Tony pressing up behind him, Tony’s face smearing drool as it smooshes against the back of Steve's bare shoulder. This is normal, laying in bed long before the alarm goes off, eyes open but unseeing. He takes a deep breath. A tear runs down his face as his fingers idly draw patterns on the strong forearms of the human embodiment of his whole world. The motion anchors him, if at least a little. 

For most people, this would be a peaceful moment to enjoy the little things, but all it is for Steve is frozen, silent torture. He wishes he could be normal and just cozy right back up in bed and be content, but he always wakes up at the same time every morning. His mind alert and flooding with memories of Nat that are now tarnished with the thought of her crumpled and crushed body, whose soul is lost to the stone that returned with Clint instead of her. He's powerless against the onslaught of horrific what-if’s. He's putting all his energy into not breaking down so that he doesn’t move, not wanting to disturb Tony. He’s completely at the mercy of his unforgiving mind. His eyes fill with more tears and the light that’s filtering through the curtains turn to blurs of golden color.

_ WHAA! WHAA! WHAA! _

Steve jolts at the sudden abrasive noise coming from his alarm, the hold of the paralyzing torture breaking. His arm moves of its own accord to come up and smack against the top of the offensive device, effectively silencing it, but he doesn’t remove his hand. Once he manages to calm his racing heart, he blinks a few times to clear the remaining tears. His eyes are the only thing that move as he squints to look at the bold red numbers floating on the nightstand. The clock reads 7:30 A.M. He heaves a deep sigh, releasing the tension that’s been coiling in his body since he first woke. 

_ Time to face the day _, his mind mutters. 

This also happens every morning. The alarm is a saving grace and a weight of dread all at the same time. He’s no longer stuck in the depressing film of his mind, but now he has to pretend like nothing is wrong for the next 15 or so hours.

Steve stretches his body out, slowly, as to not jostle Tony. He revels in the feel of muscle being pulled taut. It’s one of those luxurious stretches that has your hands interlacing high overhead, feet point like a dancer, while your legs and arms shake with a satisfying clench. The renewing blood flow makes Steve feel as if his body has finally woken from its previously paralyzed state. It’s a good start, he must admit. The fresh feeling is what he focuses on to keep himself from just staying in bed all day. There are only so many obvious indicators of depression he can get away with, and sleeping the day away is not one of them. If his usual tossing and turning can even be considered sleeping.

Extracting himself from Tony’s vice like grip has become second nature at this point, and it allows Steve to easily swing his legs over the edge of the bed so that he can sit. Tony only stirs for a little bit, mumbling something incoherent before turning over and falling back asleep. Steve braces his hands on either side of his thighs as he slightly hangs his head, eyes focusing on some random spot on the floor. Feet blindly move around the soft carpet to snag his way-ward slippers where they burrow. The first destination of the day lays directly behind him.

“FRIDAY, lights at twenty percent please,” Steve murmurs, and automatically the lights brighten to a dim glow. Though the sun has already made its appearance in the sky, the room still needs the light so he can safely make it to the adjoining bathroom, without bumping or stumbling into anything along the way. 

Armed with slippers and a lit path, Steve pushes against the bed to straighten. His hands deftly going to the flannel pants he once loved, but now only wears for formality, to adjust the fabric back into place as he begins moving around the bed to start the day.

The worn in slippers scuff across the carpet, the only sound filling the room as Steve makes his way over to the bathroom with deliberate steps. As he passes the foot of the bed, he also passes the door to the rest of the tower. For now, there isn’t any signs of life from the other side. Steve is usually the first to wake, but not the first to emerge into the common area.

The list of morning tasks take up all the space in his mind, leaving no room for feelings of any kind. Truly, Steve could make the walk to the bathroom in his sleep, and he looks like he does, the way he moves around the room like a zombie. 

With half a mind, Steve remembers to snag a fresh towel and washcloth from the linen closet. They’re navy blue, and when he pauses to admire the feel of them, he notes that they’re the softest he’s ever used. To think he would have once marveled at the extravagance of this alone, not to mention the life he lives in general, is laughable. And now, he can’t seem to find pleasure in any of it. He turns again to finally enter the bathroom.

“Lights on,” he commands as he clicks the door shut behind him.

He has to blink against the sudden brightness of the room, the light beams from the spotlight bulbs in the ceiling and the self illuminating mirrors. The hard soles of his slippers softly tap against the white tiled floor, before Steve toes them off to stand on the spongy grey bath mat in front of the mirrors. He begins to shave, not needing to put any focus into the movements as he uses the attached, smaller mirror to see from all angles. When he’s sure that he got everything, patting away the remaining shaving cream, he hangs his head between his arms braced on the vanity.

_ Deep breaths. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Just a little while longer, and you’ll have Tony to help you through the day _. 

Steve knows it’s not fair to Tony to use him as a crutch like this, he’s even made a point to not be quite as clingy, but he tells himself the lie just so he can muster up the courage to continue on. He turns his head to the left to look at himself in the slim side mirror and notes the tired lines that have worn into his face, it’s been a rough month. He wills himself to look more determined, nodding to himself once before pushing himself off the vanity’s counter.

The strong, hot spray of water pounds against Steve’s chest and back, massaging away the rest of the tension in his muscles. He rolls his shoulders, too stubborn to turn the water any colder, wanting to feel the burn of it against his skin. Not wasting any time, he grabs for his clean washcloth and the body wash that Tony says makes him smell like the kind of home you want to come back to. He breathes in deeply, nostrils flaring, and the thick heady smell of it fills his nose as he works the soap into a lather on his body. The heat of the water makes the bathroom steam with it’s familiar perfume.

The time Steve spends in the shower, though short, is where the real “magic” happens. It’s where he goes from barely able to put one foot in front of the other to someone who can pass as doing just fine. He scrubs his face with the still soapy washcloth, as if to plaster on the mask of nonchalance he now regularly wears.

He doesn’t actively rinse the soap from his body, just lets the spray catch whatever it can as he massages shampoo into his hair. The steps of his shower have become a dance, one where he doesn’t have to constantly think about the gravity behind each movement like he does when around others. His mind instead goes back to the only happy memory he allows himself, the one that the intoxicating smell of his body wash always evokes.

_ It’s later in the evening, and Steve is sitting on the plush couch across from the TV in the compound’s common area, a book in his lap that Nat had recommended the day before. Steve had heard about _ Pride and Prejudice _ growing up, but never had the time for pleasantries back then. His one leg is tucked under him as he leans into the corner of the couch, hand propping his head up as he reads. He started reading the book two hours earlier, and he’s already halfway through, unable to get enough of the formal romance it exudes. _

_ He hears Tony come over, but he keeps silent, Tony apparently deciding that leaving tantalizing kisses along Steve’s neck would work just as well as words. It does. Steve cants his head to the side with a sigh, allowing for better access which Tony eagerly takes advantage of. _

_ It isn’t long before Tony pauses to take a deep breath in through his nose, to then let out through his mouth against the very heated skin of Steve’s neck. A low groan of what must be approval rumble through Tony’s chest and into Steve. _

_ “Have I ever mentioned that you smell divine?” Steve practically _ feels _ Tony murmur against his neck, his breath tickling against the soft baby hairs there. _

_ “Not particularly, no,” Steve chuckles in response, “I started using this new scent recently though, glad to know it’s a hit.” _

_ “Mmmm, it’s definitely a hit for me,” Tony’s gently grazing the tip of his nose along Steve’s neck, taking measured breaths against the skin. _

_ Steve turns to get a better look at him, back resting fully against the arm of the couch and arm slinging onto the back of it. He gives Tony a chaste kiss in greeting, marking and closing the forgotten book. He’ll finish it later. Tony’s eyes are still closed, and Steve can’t help but smile at the sweet image his boyfriend makes. _

_ “Hey, babe,” Steve practically whispers as to not break the tenderness of the moment. His voice seems to coax Tony’s hazy eyes open, lips parting slightly, and Steve’s smile broadens to a toothy grin. Tony’s face breaks into a matching expression, eyes twinkling, and Steve feels his heart stutter at the sight. His face must have slackened a little, because Tony chuckles slightly before coming in for a second kiss, which he breaks to hop over Steve’s arm resting on the back of the couch to join him. _

_ “Hey there, soldier,” Tony responds in mock seduction, eyebrows waggling suggestively, and Steve just shakes his head with fondness, grin still in place. His arm comes down from it’s resting spot on the couch to pull Tony into him. Tony turns so that his back is against Steve’s chest, head right underneath Steve’s. _

_ Steve plants kisses on the top of Tony’s head and murmurs into his hair, “Now that you have my undivided attention, how are you?” _

_ “I honestly was going to see if I could convince you to indulge me in a nice make-out session, but now that I’ve gotten a whiff of you, I would say I have been sated,” Tony sighs with the contentment he was describing, practically melting further into Steve’s embrace. _

_ “Gee, thanks.” _

_ “No! No, not like that sweetie. You smell _ fantastic _ !” Tony is quick to interject. Unable to see the smile on Steve’s face, Tony’s not at all catching that Steve was just trying to play around. But Steve, enjoying the praise, doesn’t stop him from continuing. _

_“I simply was _saying _that you’ve calmed me down. Your new scent works better than the Dog Whisperer, because I am completely content in simply becoming your lap dog,” he emphasizes the words by rubbing his head into the crook of Steve’s shoulder._

_ “Well then, in that case, don’t let me stop you from being the cutest lap dog the world has ever seen.” _

_ Thinking that the silly conversation is over, Steve starts to bring his book out again to read, happy to just have Tony curled up next to him as he does. _

_ “You just smell like home,” Tony announces, and Steve’s breath hitches from the proclamation. Steve knows that Tony’s home growing up was never anything bright, and the concept of home is something Tony struggles with, so the mere mention of it has Steve holding his breath. He keeps silent though, knowing that Tony will continue. _

_ “It’s weird that I can so boldly claim it. Like, how can I? A man who’s never really known what a true home is. But that smell... _ that’s _ it. It smells like the kind of home you want to come back to,” he gets quieter with every word he says, as if it’s a truth he doesn’t want to say too loudly, in fear that the harsh world he’s come to know might tarnish it. _

_ Steve lets out the breath he’s been holding, his eyes well with tears at the tenderness in the confession. Tony shifts around until he’s looking at Steve, a small smile on his face and matching tear filled eyes. He leans forward to take another good sniff, eyes closing with whatever thoughts going through his beautiful mind. A few tears escape his eyes, and then he’s opening them again, catching and holding Steve’s gaze. _

_ “ _ My _ home,” his voice cracking with emotion, shoulders lifting with a shrug in what can only be an attempt to alleviate the overwhelming feelings Steve can see flashing behind his eyes. Steve pulls him into his lap, running his hands soothingly up and down Tony’s arm. _

_ “You’re my home too Tony,” is all Steve can whisper as his own tears fall. He’s not sure if his heart has ever been this full before. _

Just like every morning, the memory leaves Steve smiling, his heart throbbing with the ghost of the warm moment. The happiness doesn’t last long though. It’s quickly replaced with guilt. He should be mourning the loss of his best friend, not being happy that she’s gone. 

It’s a lie. He knows this. He knows that being happy doesn’t mean that it’s because she’s gone. And he knows Nat would really want him to be happy in spite of her being gone. But it just feels so wrong, like his heart and soul is being doused with thick, putrid motor oil, extinguishing any happy emotion he was able to glean from the memory.

He shuts the water off abruptly, hand carelessly reaching outside of the shower to grab his towel. He dries his body as he steps out, the towel tied around his waist by the time he reaches the vanity again. The wet glass feels cool under his hand when he swipes away the fog that collected there during his shower. He doesn’t give himself the chance to take in the tired expression he has, going straight into brushing his teeth. He needs to wake Tony up soon so they can both be ready at a reasonable hour. Steve can smell breakfast being made already.

Turning back into the bedroom, it’s apparent that Tony hasn’t made any signs of waking soon on his own. His bare form is still sprawling out on the bed in the same position Steve left it in. Tony has always been the kind of sleeper that will take up the whole bed if able, or cling onto the first person to join him in it: Face squishing into the mattress, just barely missing the mark of the pillow, the sheet only covering his much appreciated ass, with one arm coming around to rest his hand on the back of his head, one leg slung over a wayward pillow. 

The sight makes Steve quirk a smile. There’s no way he could love someone more, he thinks as he shuffles over to the soundly sleeping man. The closer he gets, the more he’s able to hear Tony’s even breathing whistling out of his mouth. Steve crouches the best he can with only a towel covering him, right before Tony.

“Hey hun, it’s time to get up now.” Steve pets Tony’s hair, his words mimicking the soothing motion. Tony isn’t a morning person, and Steve has learned that this is the best way to wake him without any painful consequences.

“Fibmurmins,” Tony mumbles out, lips barely moving with effort to make coherent speech. His eyes don’t even flicker with recognition that the Steve talking isn’t a dream. Five more minutes his ass. Steve expects this. In fact, he was hoping for this.

Leaning forward, he brushes his lips up to Tony’s cheek, planting soft kisses in a trail to his ear. The sensations elicit a hum from Tony, his mouth curving into a smile. 

Good, he’s enjoying this. Now it’s just a matter of saying the right thing, in just the right way…

“Don’t tell me I got all prettied and cleaned up for you, just to have you choose the bed over me,” Steve makes his voice deep and sultry in Tony’s ear, just the way he loves it.

Tony’s eyes pop open, already pushing himself up from bed, arms swinging high above his head, and his tongue darting out to wet his lips, “’M up! See, not choosin’ bed over you,” he slurs out, eyes still foggy with sleep. He yawns and blinks a few times before looking to Steve who’s softly grinning. Steve can’t help it, Tony’s just so cute when he attempts to push the sleep away because he was enticed with sex. Tony’s face slowly spreads into his own soft, sleepy grin.

“Smells like breakfast is ready. If we get out there soon enough, maybe we can snag something before Clint steals it all.” This makes Tony chuckle, and Steve feels a small bit of triumph bloom in his chest. A small glimpse of truly warm happiness. Steve waits for the pang of guilt to hit, and it never comes. _ Maybe today won’t be so bad _.

“You’re always trying to make me eat. What, are you trying to fatten me up for some weird kink I don’t know about yet?” Steve does his best to give a disapproving scowl but loses the battle and starts chuckling himself. It’s been one of Tony’s never-ending jokes, he was very surprised to learn of the many kinks Steve possesses, and hasn’t been able to let it go, much to Steve’s chagrin.

Together they make quick work of getting dressed. It takes a bit more coaxing to actually get Tony out of bed. A few lingering kisses here and there, but Steve doesn’t mind, it makes him feel needed. There’s a moment when Tony tries to slip his jeans on, just to slowly tip over and fall to his side. Steve does his best to clamp down the laugh thundering to get loose, but when Tony looks up, face screwed in annoyance, the laugh bursts free.

Steve almost misses Tony’s look of pleased surprise, and the warmth in his chest spreads with the thought that he finally did something right. They continue on like that, shuffling around each other to snag articles of clothing they deem appropriate for the days activities. Sharing small, sweet moments that make the energy light. Is it truly possible that today is the day that things get better? And maybe it’s wishful thinking, but Steve would like to believe that it is.

\---

It was definitely wishful thinking, Steve realizes. He finally walks out, hand in hand with the love of his life, his soulmate, with a genuine smile on his face for once. Tony himself was grinning like a child who had just won a toy from the claw machine, nearly giddy.

"He really does eat a lot! I tried my best to get ready fast enough! I even fell over! I pray to every food god I can think of that Barton hasn't eaten all the good stuff." Tony is nearly bursting with energy that's unusual for the morning, and Steve loves it.

"Considering that your version of good food is very different from Clint's version of good food, I'm pretty sure you're safe, babe." 

Tony frowns at this, pouting slightly. Steve's resounding laugh booms in an echo around the communal floor, making the team look up from whatever conversation or food they were having. 

When Steve’s attention is finally drawn over to the island to see what seat is available, he's met with a mixture of raised eyebrows, grins, and curious glances. Steve raises his own eyebrow in question, and with a shake of some heads, the team goes back to what they were doing. Everyone’s already crowded around the island, chowing down on what is most likely Bruce’s genius in the kitchen. 

Steve’s eyes go around the room filled with the people he now calls family, his cheeks aching from holding a smile longer than he has in awhile. It’s almost like a veil has been lifted as he looks around with the lighter energy the morning has gifted him with, his heart full of love towards everyone there.

They first land on Bruce, who is going between the stove and the island, with Peter enthusiastically explaining some kind of science theory he’s learning about in school. The two of them have been getting along so well, something Steve is very thankful for, because selfishly that means he gets more time with Tony. Steve must admit though, the kid is hard to dislike. He’s smart, passionate, and sweet. It makes sense that he would get along so well with Bruce, and how Tony couldn’t resist taking the young prodigy under his wing.

Steve’s gaze slides over to Clint, who is slightly hunched over his plate of food. While Wanda, less fervently, eats her own food beside him in silent comfort. It’s as if Clint has adopted her into his own family. Their dynamic has definitely helped Wanda integrate smoothly into the team. 

On Clint’s other side is Bucky, sitting at the corner of the island, murmuring to Sam who is standing by him. Truly the best thing Steve could have hoped for: two of his best friends getting along so well. It makes him feel less guilty for being unable to be the friend they both deserve, and Bucky desperately needs. It’s hard for Steve to actively participate in outings with the two because he always feels like there’s a place missing, the place Nat would usually fill. _ No. Today, we are going to be happy. _

“Do you ever think that maybe this place is a little crowded?” Tony whispers into Steve’s ear, and he jumps slightly.

“I think you just don’t like to share,” Steve prods back. This something they haven’t done in a while, the banter. Steve wasn’t open to it before, but now it warms his heart.

“Nooo. Well, I mean yes. But, you have to admit, this is the busiest the Hulk Diner has ever been!” Steve slightly rolls his eyes at the corny nickname he insists on giving their kitchen. Tony claims that because Bruce is the only one who uses the kitchen to its fullest potential and creates great culinary masterpieces, the Hulk Diner is perfect.

Tony does have a point, and maybe Steve has just felt the pressure of everyone more because of his...grieving, but he has to agree that the tower has been a little crowded lately. Ever since the “Blip” it’s been all hands on deck to rebuild and repair the damage done from the battle. The people assembled in the kitchen now have been the constants, but sometimes the others (Captain Marvel, Rhodey, some of the Guardians, Thor, and Ant Man) will come and check in or give updates on their own missions.

The damage had left the whole compound ruined, forcing the team to relocate back to Stark Tower. Everyone has their own level for their quarters, but there’s one level, the communal area, that they all share, it’s kitchen getting the most attention whenever Bruce is around. It’s been nice, having the whole team all in one building again.

Steve releases Tony’s hand to take the stool by Wanda and he watches with fondness as Tony circles around to get his usual cup of coffee, ruffling Peter’s hair on his way. Tony would make an amazing dad. Well, he is actually. Peter has basically become a son to him, and Steve just hopes that this bit of light can stay for Tony, because he deserves something good to stay. Steve was so busy looking at the pair with fondness that he didn’t notice Bruce standing before him, plate in hand.

“It’s kind of crazy to watch the two of them together,” Bruce notes with clear tenderness. His voice snaps Steve out of it, and he turns to see that Bruce is smiling at him.

“It really is. The kid is so much like Tony, just without all the self destructive tendencies,” Steve smiles back as he responds, not caring if his love for the two made him look soft. It was then that Steve looks down to the plate that Bruce holds out to him. His smile quickly slips from his face.

“Oh right, I thought I’d make you some pancakes, because I know you and Nat loved them so much.”

That was all it took. When he heard her name, it was like a cold bucket of water was poured over him. All of the warmth he was finally getting used to again snuffs out like a candle. Tony tenses from where he stands by the coffee machine, but doesn’t say a word. Bucky glances Steve’s way, with genuine sympathy and concern written across his features.

Steve does his best to keep his reaction cool in front of everyone, taking the plate with a shaky smile. He can’t cry, not here, not now. A part of him shrivels up inside from the look of empathy that Bruce gives him. 

It’s not Bruce’s fault, he’s just doing his best to move forward. So Steve eats his pancakes. He can feel Tony’s eyes glance over, like he can feel the tension radiating off of Steve. But Steve just ignores it, he can’t bare to see the concern written across Tony’s features. Though no one else shows signs of noticing the shift in Steve’s demeanor, the shift in the room is palpable. 

Getting through today just became a lot more difficult, and Steve is left with the usual itch he gets whenever Natasha is brought up. That need to throw caution to the wind and fuck Tony until all other thoughts have no space in his mind.

\--

When he gets the chance, Steve’s pulling Tony into a side room, pushing him up against a wall, and kissing his lips with the usual desperation. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears building there not to fall. This is where Tony would usually reciprocate, but now he’s trying to pull away, shutting down Steve’s advances.

“Okay, sweetie, now wait.” Tony manages to get out, he’s holding his hands up. This was not what Steve was expecting or wanting and it stuns him. He takes a few steps back, unable to say anything, slightly hurt that Tony isn’t letting him indulge in this. Tony’s eyebrows crease in concern, probably noticing Steve’s misty eyes.

“Now don’t get me wrong, I love this…” he gives an appreciative look up and down Steve’s body. “I _really_ fucking love and enjoy this. But this isn’t healthy, babe.”

Steve can feel the panic welling up inside him, heart drumming in his chest, a tear manages to slip past as his bold facade fades. He thought he was hiding this well, but it’s not actually a secret. And now he’s going to have to face this loss without anything to help. 

In Steve’s mind, this was working, and he’s scared to let it go. Even though he knows Tony has seen his fading composure, Steve does his best to pull himself together again, he needs this, and the only way Tony is going to give it to him, is if he doesn’t look like a puppet on his last string.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Tony, I can’t help that my boyfriend is hot and so fucking talented in everything sexual.” Steve hopes this will throw Tony off, and prevent him from ending what Steve desperately his hanging on to. It’s a pitiful attempt, but Steve feels like he’s floundering and it’s the first thing he thought of.

However, to Steve’s dismay, Tony looks like he prepared for this. “I’m not stupid, Steve, I know that you’ve been struggling with Natasha’s death. I also know that you’ve been using sex as a coping mechanism. Hell, Steve, I’m sure the whole team has noticed something is up!” He takes a deep breath to calm himself, eyes closing briefly. 

“I’m not saying this to shame you. It would be shitty for me of all people to try and shame you for something I was very notorious for. I’ve played a big part in this as well. I guess I allowed myself to believe I was all you would need to get through this, but I’m not. And rightly so! I’ve enjoyed all this, but you need to get help Steve. I love you, and I can’t bare to see you like this,” Tony rushes out, leaving no room for Steve to interrupt, not that he would. Tony’s cheeks puff out with a deep breath, he looks nervous, slightly tense and he waits for Steve’s response.

_ Right. Respond Steve, don’t just stand there. _

“I- I just don’t know what else to do,” Steve sobs. He’s not sure when he started crying, but now the tears run fast and hard. “Sh- she’s gone- oh god Tony she’s gone, and I don’t know how to stop this ache!” Steve is crumbling now, the grief of it hitting him again, harder than he’s let it this past month. The weight of it has him sliding to the floor, hands bracing his head.

“I don’t want to let people down, but I don’t want to dishonor her. And then I just miss her, I- I miss her so fucking much it hurts.” He’s hyperventilating now, unable to get enough air into his lungs.

“Hey, hey, hey, Steve I need you to breathe with me, okay. Deep breath in, and out.” Tony instantly crouches down on the floor with Steve. Forehead crinkling with worry, he rubs Steve’s arms in comfort. Seeing Tony’s face anchors Steve enough to get down a shaky, deep breath, and then another more solid this time, and then another until he’s breathing smoother. Tony nods along in encouragement, he really would make a great dad.

“Sweetheart, I get it, I know it hurts, no one is asking you to act like you’re fine. But I need you to talk to a professional who can help you find closure. I’m worried about you.” 

“I don’t even know where to go for that,” Steve admits. His thoughts aren’t spiraling as much as they were before, and he’s actually able to focus on the conversation. Tony is smiling softly at him, his eyes shining with a bit of relief. He’s still rubbing Steve’s arms, probably not even aware that he is anymore.

“That’s fine, baby, I can easily work it out for you to see my therapist. But only if you feel comfortable with it. For now, I think it’s best if we try and change the way you cope with this grief. Instead of automatically going to sex, try writing what you feel, work on a project, hell, Steve you don’t even talk about her. Talk to anyone about her. If a therapist is too daunting for you right now, I know Barnes would be more than happy to talk to you,” Tony keeps his voice gentle and calm, as if speaking any louder might spook Steve away. He constantly keeps his hands braced on Steve’s forearms as a way to ground him.

Expressing the turmoil of emotions has Steve feeling more calm, his mind doesn’t feel like a busy beehive anymore. And though the ache is still there, the weight of it lighter. He takes a deep breath.

“I think - I think I want to try and talk. Maybe not to a therapist, at least not yet. But I do want to talk. I have been meaning to talk to Bucky.” 

Steve really had, he’s even gotten so far as to standing outside his door, but the idea of having what he thought may be one of the most difficult conversations while seeing the hurt and sympathy on his childhood best friend’s face always drove him away.

Steve notices that Tony’s shoulders relax a bit, a small sigh of what must be relief escaping him. It makes sense that Tony was nervous, he’s never been one for a serious heart to heart; and before, it was only Natasha that would be able to get through to Steve. Tony scoots closer, planting a small kiss of Steve’s forehead before hugging him close.

“That’s all I can ask of you. We’ll get through this together, Steve, one step at a time.” And Steve believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever published fic so I hope it is everything you need and want. I must say this was a long time coming, but just drafting this was rough, especially since I drafted this in the midst of my Endgame grieving. Comments are nice and very very appreciated! I hope I didn't break y'all too much.
> 
> I would also like to thank my best friends for taking the time to edit and make this fic the amazing piece that it is! I love y'all so much! My loves are on Tumblrs: spiders-n, voraciousslut, and redpanthers.


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